


pyrrhic victory

by vype



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 00:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1724630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vype/pseuds/vype
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Dirk Strider and this is not what victory feels like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pyrrhic victory

You wake up. 

You are alone.

You fling the sheets off the bed and stomp over to your window without actually looking out of it, because you can already smell saltwater and hear waves crashing against metal supports and feel the warm ocean breeze and you don't want to give up your last hope that all your other senses are wrong, that this is some sort of sick hallucination or dream, that you aren't where you think you are.

You stand there for who knows how long with your eyes shut, while Squarewave pesters you for a rap battle and Sawtooth shifts around the room picking up after you and neatly folding your sheets. Eventually Squarewave gets bored and deactivates himself in his corner, and even faithful Sawtooth shuffles off to the roof.

You open your eyes.

The horizon stretches out far, far into the distance and the waves smooth out into stillness. Clouds skim the border between sea and sky, reflection and reality, shifting colors under the rising sun. The sea is endless beneath your apartment, just as it has always been.

You are so, so alone.

\-----

tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

TG: diiiirk  
TG: di-stri  
TG: dirkie  
TG: fuck dirk please say your there  
TG: *yoou're  
TG: *your  
TG: *fuckit i dont care pls answer  
TT: I'm here.  
TT: Roxy.  
TG: it wasnt sposed to be like tis  
TG: we won  
TG: we fucking won and what the fuck is this??  
TT: I know.  
TT: Roxy, I know.  
TG: i dont wanna be alone again  
TG: i mean theres the carapacians and shit but  
TG: you know  
TG: i  
TT: Yeah. Me too.  
TG: i miss them  
TG: i miss janey and jakey and our ecto kidparents and the other guys and its not fair  
TT: I guess this is the game's one last 'Fuck you', huh.  
TT: Have you messaged them?  
TG: no  
TG: i dont wanna try  
TG: callies client isnt installed anymore  
TG: i dont think itll work  
TG: i dont want it not to work  
TG: im scared  
TG: im scared of what ill do if it doesnt work  
TG: dirk  
TG: hey dirk  
TT: Sorry, Rox. I was trying it out.  
TG: fuck  
TG: dont tell me  
TG: wait  
TG: tell me  
TG: damn it  
TG: do what you want  
TT: It doesn't work.  
TT: Says their chumhandles are deactivated.  
TT: Haven't been used in 400 years.  
TT: uu and UU don't exist.  
TT: Forget about our weird paradox ectobiology clone babies.  
TT: They don't exist either.  
TT: Neither do the trolls.  
TT: No one's there, Rox.  
TG: FUCK  
TG: FUCK EVERYTHING  
TG: i hate this  
TG: i thought this was supposed to be a reward  
TG: WE FINISHED THE FUCKING GAME  
TG: i just wanted  
TG: i just  
TG: dont we deserve at least that  
TT: Video call?  
TG: please

tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

\-----

It's so hard to get used to being alone again. You keep turning around and expecting Jake to be sitting there, swinging his legs off the edge of your bed like he would do in LOTAK. Or maybe Jane with her hands on her hips, ready to give you a good lecture on the importance of eating properly. Roxy leaping over to envelop you in the biggest hug when you return from every quest on your toxic hellhole planet, her nails disgustingly (yet endearingly) chewed on as she usually does when she gets nervous.

Fuck, you even miss Hal, the little shit. 

You sleep a lot. Sleeping is still something new. It's odd at night, after your dreamself died. But now when you sleep, you can dream- and they'll be with you when you dream. That's better than nothing.

It's worth waking up with tear-stained pillows. Worth waking up with the bitter taste of names on the tip of your tongue, arms outstretched and reaching after phantoms. Worth the occasional nightmare: a memory of pain at your neck that has you desperately gasping for air; the terrifying sugar haze pulling you down into the abyss; even the distant and wrong and _not-yours_ pain of a sword through your chest.

It's all worth it just to feel a warm weight leaning against your back, thin tickling fingers down your sides, the scent of raspberry shampoo, ridiculous accents, knees pressing into your body from every angle, impromptu rap battles with someone who isn't your bro but you aren't his either and maybe that's okay. The feeling of holding hands.

You and Roxy have a routine each morning.

TG: still there?  
TT: Always.

And then you start a video chat and you do that stupid cliche thing where you put your palms against the monitor right on top of each others' and think really, really hard. 

Sometimes it works. Sometimes it's enough. 

Other times, the screen is very hard and very cold.

\-----

There are times where you think falling asleep forever would be better than whatever existence you have left for you now. 

Sometimes, you even get as far as sitting on the very edge of the roof. 

Pull out your sword and turn it in your hands. 

Cranking Sawtooth up to murder mode and about to enter the code that will mark you as a hostile. 

Just not eating.

But the thought that pulls you back is always this:

Roxy, sitting on her bed, looking at her screen, as she has been for over an hour. Nails bitten down to nothing. 

TG: still there?

\-----

tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

TG: still there?  
TT: Always.  
TT: We've passed the one month mark, in case you weren't keeping track.  
TT: Hooray for us.  
TG: fuck  
TG: i didnt want to know  
TT: Sorry.

There haven't been any signs that she's started drinking again. None of her typos or malapropers. God, she's so strong that you could cry. Cry for yourself, because you can never hope to match how utterly amazing Roxy is, because you are so, so proud of her. 

TG: anything new going on?  
TT: No.  
TG: yeah me neither  
TG: love you  
TT: I love you too.

tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

\-----

One day you wake up.

This is not anything new. You haven't had any problems with waking up. The problem now is what you are waking up to.

A loud _whomp._

A quiet: _"Fuck."_

And a definitely not quiet: _"Dirk!"_

"Roxy?"

Something throws itself at you, and indeed it is a bony pile of Lalonde. She immediately attaches herself to your neck and sends you careening back down into the mattress.

"Dirk!"

"Rox..." Your hands find places around her shoulder, against the back of her head. You can feel her hair slide through your fingers, the soft fabric of her shirt. 

She's here.

She's crying. Fuck it, _you're_ crying.

It's a dream. Has to be a dream. You've just been getting so desperate that your dreams have turned into some sort of wish fulfillment fantasy, and you're going to disappoint yourself when you wake up-

"'Sup losers." 

And then there is Dave Strider and his smug shades and if he pulls you apart from Roxy, dream or no, he is going to get punched right in the middle of his fucking face. 

That is not what he does.

What he does is this:

He grins. An actual full grin.

Okay yeah, this isn't a dream anymore.

"The 21st century awaits, motherfuckers."


End file.
